


The Grasshopper and the Piano

by clefairytea



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Clefairy's Holiday Fic Request Fest, Jealousy, M/M, Piano, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 01:27:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21939172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clefairytea/pseuds/clefairytea
Summary: “It’s a vehicle,” Moomintroll insisted, because he hated to be wrong.“It’s an art piece,” Snorkmaiden said.“Treasure chest!” Sniff cried.“Holding cell,” Little My sneered.“It’s a piano,” said a voice. They turned to see Snufkin at the window, opening the latch and pushing it open.“A what?” Snorkmaiden asked.“A piano!” Snufkin said, folding his arms to lean against the windowsill. “A sort of musical instrument.”--Moomintroll uncovers an old piano in Moominhouse. It starts some interesting conversations.
Relationships: Mumintrollet | Moomintroll/Snusmumriken | Snufkin
Comments: 32
Kudos: 344





	The Grasshopper and the Piano

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, happy holidays! This is the last holiday request I'm doing! Thank you to everyone who has read and commented on the fics I've been posting over the past month or so. I'm sorry I couldn't get to everyone's requests, but I hope you've enjoyed what I've posted all the same.
> 
> I don't think there are any really big content warnings here? Jealousy, Pappa's a bit emotionally blunt and low-key homophobic (just in terms of heteronormativity, rather than actual prejudice), teenagers being big dumb-dumbs who aren't emotionally mature enough to work out their feelings yet.

“Pappa, do you know where my old grass flute is?”

“Your grass flute?” Moominpappa asked, squinting at his son. “What for?”

Moomintroll fiddled with his tail.

It was a silly thing, really. He had stumbled across Snufkin playing a new instrument – a sort of shell with holes drilled into it. He played it so beautifully, and the two of them had ended up talking about different instruments. It turned out Snufkin knew how to use far more than his mouth-organ.

It was then Moomintroll realised he couldn’t play a single instrument. All he could really do worth anything was whistle, and that hardly counted. It made him feel very small and stupid, and on the walk home he resolved he simply must try to learn the grass flute again.

“I think I’d like to take it up again,” he said.

“Oh. Must you?” Moominpappa said. “You were never very good at it, lad. And us Moomins are much better suited to whistling, that’s what we’re best at!”

“I only played when I was little, Pappa!” Moomintroll argued. “I’m a fully-grown Moomin. I’ll be much better at it now.”

Moominpappa sighed and put down his newspaper.

“Oh, alright, it’s probably up in the Room-for-Everything, if you’re so insistent,” he said. “Just don’t practice too late. You used to keep Mamma and I up far too much.”

Moomintroll rushed up to the Room-for-Everything.

These days, it was so crammed that is was hard to even open the door. He managed to get the door open enough that he could sidle through if he sucked in his gut. The room was piled high with boxes and crates – some filled with Mamma’s jam, others with bits and pieces from Pappa’s adventures, old books, Moomintroll’s baby clothes and ribbons, photo albums, a million and one things they never looked at but could never quite bear to part with.

There was a part of Moomintroll that found the Room-for-Everything a little embarrassing. All these sentimental knick-knacks they had no use for! Snufkin would never approve. Yet on the rare occasions he’d voiced as much to Mamma or Pappa, he’d never quite been able to bring himself to throw anything away.

He found hattifattener seeds, a snowglobe, Pappa’s old collection of ties, a photo of the Oshun Oxtra crew (Moomintroll paused to look at that for a second, wondering why two of the members looked so familiar, before moving on), Mamma’s paints, an old dress of Snufkin’s (now too small for him), some of Snorkmaiden’s earrings (she’d consider them too tacky now)…

No grass flute, though.

He huffed, leaning against a large object.

“Perhaps it’s already rotted away,” he said with a sigh. “Much likemy already wasted youth, it -“

The thing he was leaning against made a loud sound. Moomintroll jumped, tail puffing out. He turned and lifted the sheet, kicking up a vast cloud of dust.

“Hello,” he said, pressing some of the funny white and black bars, producing some odd noises. “What’re you supposed to be?”

****

“It’s a very odd sort of contraption, isn’t it?” Mamma said, after they finally managed to get the big thing downstairs and in the living room. After removing the sheet and dusting it off, it was a large machine with lots of long, thin white and black buttons arranged in a row on a shelf in the middle, with some odd pedals at the bottom. Pressing some buttons made them make weird, unpleasant noises. Some buttons seemed to do nothing at all. And none of them could figure out what the funny pedals were for.

“Maybe it’s a torture device,” Little My said, stepping along the buttons and making a horrible racket. Pappa picked her up under the armpits and shifted her.

“Of course not. My old friend Hodgkins left it with me, he wasn’t interested in such things!” Pappa said confidently.

“Maybe it’s some kind of vehicle?” Moomintroll said, crouching on a bucket to press the pedals with his feet. To his disappointment, it didn’t move, but perhaps there was a certain combination and pedals and buttons one needed to press to make it go.

“Funny sort of vehicle with no seat,” Snorkmaiden commented, tilting her head and squinting at the object.

“Well, that’s _clearly_ just broken off at some point!” he argued, although now Snorkmaiden said it he really wasn’t certain.

“Maybe it’s a treasure chest,” Sniff said, and glanced about. “We should find a hammer and crack it open!”

“What if it has something nasty inside it?” Little My said, chuckling. “What if it’s Pandora’s Box and as soon as you crack it open, a million billion horrid spirits crawl out and start causing havoc?”

Sniff paled.

“Now – now that’s just silly!” he said but took a step back from the odd contraption.

“It’s a vehicle,” Moomintroll insisted, because he hated to be wrong.

“It’s an art piece,” Snorkmaiden said.

“Treasure chest!” Sniff cried.

“Holding cell,” Little My sneered.

“It’s a piano,” said a voice. They turned to see Snufkin at the window, opening the latch and pushing it open.

“A what?” Snorkmaiden asked.

“A piano!” Snufkin said, folding his arms to lean against the windowsill. “A sort of musical instrument.”

“This thing is a musical instrument?” Moomintroll said, looking at it sceptically.” It’s much too large!”

Snufkin laughed.

“Oh, yes, I suppose in the valley you only really see instruments you can carry around in your paws,” he said. “Believe it or not, though, it could be bigger. This is an upright piano. A grand piano would be much larger.”

“Goodness, how does anybody take it anywhere?” Mamma asked, resting her paw on her cheek.

“They don’t, largely. Most of the time, people come to wherever the piano is,” Snufkin said, hopping down from the windowsill and crossing the room to inspect the piano. He pressed a few buttons experimentally, fingers moving across them in a pattern that looked too complex to be random. It sounded almost like a tune, but Snufkin shook his head and stepped back, clearly dissatisfied.

“I’m afraid this poor creature has seen better days though,” he said. “It’s out of tune for one, and it sounds like some keys are broken altogether. It’s no good in this state.”

“Oh dear,” Mamma said, sounding terribly sorry for it. “Perhaps we should see if Too-Ticky is willing to come along and do repairs. I’d feel just awful leaving the poor thing broken.”

“Would you know how to fix it, Snuf?” Moomintroll asked, because it seemed the kind of thing Snufkin would know how to do. Snufkin shook his head.

“I’m afraid not. I learned to play, a little while ago, but this is beyond me,” he said.

“When did you get the chance to learn an instrument too big to carry around?” Snorkmaiden asked, ears flicking. To Moomintroll’s surprise, Snufkin seemed embarrassed at this, scratching the back of his neck.

“Ah, well, it’s rather an interesting story. A winter or so ago, I actually stayed in a city for a few weeks,” he said.

“A _city_?” Mamma repeated. “You, Snufkin?”

Snufkin laughed, raising his paws.

“I didn’t expect to. I was only passing through, intending to trade for some coffee beans, when I happened upon a kerfuffle,” he said, sitting on the arm of the sofa, arms folded. “There were a great deal of different types of people, many of them holding signs and banners, and a great deal of police officers with big shields and batons, herding them all together. At the front of the protestors was a grasshopper, having an argument with the biggest, meanest looking police officer there.”

They were all silent – it was not often Snufkin told a travel story in such detail, especially not one that contained so many other people. Such rare things should be appreciated carefully, Moomintroll thought, sitting down with his legs folded up to his chest.

“Of course, I had no idea what was going on, but I knew that the people with the signs must be in the right,” Snufkin said.

“Quite right,” Mamma said, nodding. “So what did you do?”

“Well, I had some firecrackers with me,” Snufkin said. “I had travelled to this wonderful place over the sea where they did brilliant work making fireworks. I originally planned to bring them back here, so you all could have them for summer solstice.”

“Oh, my brother tried making those once!” Snorkmaiden cried. “They’re supposed to light up the sky with bright lights and shapes. All he really managed to do was blow up our oven, though.”

“It’s quite a tricky art to learn. Now don’t interrupt,” he replied sternly.

“Well Mamma was allowed!” Snorkmaiden said. Snufkin ignored her and cleared his throat.

“So, I hopped up a drain pipe, and when I was sure I was quite hidden, threw down firecrackers. The officers all started to panic and throw themselves to the floor, and I shouted for the protestors to run, and they all scattered. Naturally, the officers were fast to realise who was responsible, so I needed to run myself.”

“Over the rooftops?” Little My said, raising an eyebrow.

“Naturally,” Snufkin said, doing a terrible job of pretending he wasn’t pleased with himself. “I clambered up the rest of the drain pipe and off I ran, hopping between the roofs and over the chimney pots, the police hot on my tail. Of course, most were hemulens, and not as fast as I was – but there was a wind-troll there, and she was as quick as you might imagine.”

“Is that a relative of ours?” Moomintroll asked. Snufkin smiled down at him.

“I imagine so. They’re rather not as nice-looking as moomins, though,” he said, and then glanced at Snorkmaiden, and added in an awkward manner, “or snorks. They’re quite long and thin for trolls, with fur as curly and grey as a storm cloud. One feels as though they could evaporate into rainy air at any moment. Regardless, they’re very fast, and I was very tired. For a moment I was completely certain I would be spending the rest of my winter in prison.”

At that, Snufkin paused, taking his mouth-organ out of his pocket and fiddling with it (as he always did when he was missing his pipe).

“Well?” Sniff piped up, hands on his hips. “What happened then?”

“Don’t be impatient,” he said. “It’s important to a good story, waiting for the right moment.”

“All the same, we don’t have all day,” Pappa grumbled, sounding less than impressed at having his usual spotlight pinched. Snufkin jumped, as though he’d forgotten Pappa was there.

“Well, um,” he said, looking as though he had forgotten what he was saying. Moomintroll gave him an encouraging look and Snufkin pushed on.

“Well, it was at that point that I heard a few voices coming up from one of the chimney pots,” he said, “a few chaps, all out of breath, wondering where those firecrackers came from. Well, there was nothing else for it. The wind-troll was quick approaching, and I couldn’t keep up the chase much longer, so I threw myself down the chimney pot.”

“Strike me pink, Snufkin!” Snorkmaiden gasped. “What if the fire had been lit?”

“I suppose I would have been burned,” he said, shrugging.

“Oh, don’t act so casual about it,” Little My scolded. “I bet you were just panicking too much to even think about that.”

“Well, we can’t all be so casual about going to prison as you, Little My,” Moomintroll said sharply, before looking back at Snufkin, eager to hear the rest of this tale. “Come on, Snufkin, what happened after you tumbled down the chimney pot?”

“Well, I tumbled out of the fireplace, quite covered in soot, onto a very delipidated looking house. The sofa was in two pieces, and there was a great deal of old things scattered about, one of which was a piano, just like the one you all just uncovered. Sitting at a table in the middle was a small group of bohemian-looking gents,” he said. “And who should be among them but the handsome grasshopper I saw in such debate with the police chief.”

Snorkmaiden, who had been starting to look a bit glassy-eyed, perked up at the mention of gents.

“Oh?” she said.

“Yes,” Snufkin said briskly. “So, after I got myself cleaned up, we all had a glass of kvass and they explained the whole situation. They were protesting, you see, because a very rich man wanted to buy the nature reserve by the coast and turn it into an oil rig.”

He scowled, nostrils flaring at the thought.

“Well, I very much could not have that. I asked what I could do to help the whole situation,” he said. “Before long, I was very much embroiled in the whole protest, assisting with sabotage and recruitment. Those who lived in the city had to worry about their children and their jobs and other such things, but I had nothing to lose, you see, so I could take a great deal more risks.”

“Really?” Moomintroll said, surprised. He knew Snufkin met people on his travels, but he had never considered before that he might stay for longer than a few nights and get truly involved with their lives. Inexplicably, the thought made him feel terribly uneasy.

“Oh, yes,” Snufkin said. “It was quite an exciting time.”

“How did you end up with the time to learn this instrument then?” Snorkmaiden asked, ears flicking. Snufkin fiddled with his hair, an uncharacteristically sheepish gesture.

“Well,” he said. “The city was – as many cities are – rather strict about people sleeping out of doors. Tents would be burned down and stolen, and many flat surfaces had horrible spikes that made it impossible to lie down. The grasshopper, being a kind fellow, offered to let me pitch my tent in his living room. And er. Well.”

Snorkmaiden became very giggly. Snufkin became very interested in his mouth-organ. Moomintroll became very annoyed.

“Hmph,” he said. “So I suppose he taught you to play the peeno while you were living there?”

“Piano,” Snufkin corrected.

“Whatever.”

“And yes, he did – there was little else to do on occasions when we were hiding from police,” he said. “It wasn’t always easy – he had more limbs than I did, so his style of play was quite different. A very good teacher and an extraordinarily talented musician, though. A fine fellow.”

“A fine fellow, indeed!” Moomintroll said with a snort. “What a thing to say!”

The others stared at him, expressions ranging from sneering amusement (Little My) to utter confusion (Snufkin) to thoughtful concern (Snorkmaiden).

“Well, yes, that was how I got the hang out of it anyway,” Snufkin said, sounding as though he’d rather bring this story to a close sooner rather than later.

Moomintroll was glad of it – what a stupid story! All Snufkin needed to say was that a chap he met on his travels taught him it, not talk all this nonsense about what a fine fellow he was. In Moomintroll’s opinion, the grasshopper sounded like a very suspicious sort, inviting strange snufkins to stay in his home. Honestly!

“Well,” Mamma said, when the awkward silence had lasted just a little too long. “I still think we should send for Too-Ticky to repair it. It feels very sad, having a musical instrument that cannot make music.”

“Capital idea, I suspect Hodgkins would be pleased should he come back to find it fixed too!” Pappa said, standing up to fetch a pen and paper. “Let’s write to her immediately!”

“I’ll take it to her,” Moomintroll said quickly.

Yes, he thought. The piano could be very easy to get the hang of, if some pretentious grasshopper fellow could do it. As soon as it was fixed, he would learn it immediately.

****

Too-Ticky usually spent the summer across the sea, on an island with a woman she seemed very fond of. Pappa, once, had called that woman Too-Ticky’s ‘special friend’.

“Special friend?” Moomintroll asked.

“Er, yes,” Pappa said. “It is perhaps an unusual kind of friendship, one perhaps more _,_ err, _unique_ than other friendships -”

“Like how Snufkin and I are friends?”

Pappa choked on his tea.

“Oh, er, not quite, son. Say…hm. More like the way you and that Snorkmaiden girl are friends,” he said, very gently. “Do you understand?”

Moomintroll did not understand in the least, but he said ‘Yes, Pappa’ and went back outside to play, deciding this conversation was too uncomfortable and too difficult to continue any further.

Fortunately, after last year, Too-Ticky came to visit Ninny often. As soon as she heard they had a broken piano in Moominhouse, she came along with her toolbox, excited about the prospect of a new project. She took out the back piece of wood, revealing a lot of strings, lined up vertically, and many complex metal mechanisms.

Moomintroll was terrified by the sight and thought perhaps it best they accept it as a lost cause and push the whole thing into the sea. Too-Ticky merely lit up, chuckled to herself, and set to work. All Moomintroll had to do was sit and pass things, occasionally getting up to make her a cup of tea.

“Ye wanting this repaired for anything in particular, young Moomintroll?” Too-Ticky asked once, pausing whatever inscrutable thing she was doing to eat one of Mamma’s biscuits.

“Well, you know. It’s an impressive thing to be able to do, play an instrument,” Moomintroll said vaguely. She raised an eyebrow at him in that knowing way of hers. Moomintroll did like Too-Ticky, but she knew many things that he did not, and it was sometimes discomforting.

“Trying to impress somebody?” she asked.

“Yes,” Moomintroll said quickly, and then, “Snorkmaiden, of course.”

“Of course,” Too-Ticky said, slurping down the dregs of her tea. “Well, best I get back to it, then.”

Moomintroll took the cup and went to clean it, not sure why he suddenly felt so wrong-footed.

****

It was a mere week until Too-Ticky had the piano in complete and utter working order. She even crafted a lovely little stool, with a green pillow on the top, and varnished the wood to make the piano gleam. It looked very fine in the moomin’s living room, and they all stood around admiring it for a moment, feeling very well-to-do and important. But in a very artistic, bohemian way, so nobody felt much guilty about it.

“Well,” Mamma said. “We should invite Snufkin over to play it a little for us. I’d love to hear what the music sounds like.”

“No!” Moomintroll interrupted. His parents turned to look at him, very puzzled. He coughed.

“No, no, I mean – it’s the _moomin_ family piano now, isn’t it?” he said, looking at Pappa. “It should really be one of us playing it, shouldn’t it?”

“Why, you’re quite right son!” Pappa said, puffing his chest out. “We’re very musical creatures, us moomins, we should be proud of that!”

“Err, well, that’s all very good, dears,” Mamma interrupted, brow furrowed, “but do either of you know how to _play_ the piano?”

The two moominmen looked at one another.

“It can’t be _that_ hard,” Moomintroll said.

“Don’t you worry, my dear!” Pappa said, putting her arm around Mamma’s shoulders. “I’m sure he’ll learn! He’s _almost_ as talented as I am, after all!”

“Wow, thanks Pappa,” Moomintroll said flatly.

“Of course, I’d play, but, it’s hardly fair is it?” Pappa said, and then coughed. “Why, I’m so splendid at so many things, it seems unfair for me to add another to my _formidable_ resumé.”

“Of course dear,” Mamma said gently. “And being tone-deaf would make this rather difficult.”

“I suppose it would!” Pappa said and clapped Moomintroll on the shoulder. “I leave it to you, dear boy! I look forward to seeing you in concert.”

“Don’t worry, Pappa,” Moomintroll said. “I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it.”

****

“Why is this happening to me!” Little My wailed, paws pressed over her ears. “I’ve done a lot of wicked things in my life, but I don’t deserve this!”

“He is getting better…” Mamma said, clutching her handbag very tight, biting down on her lip. Downstairs, Moomintroll had started a new song. Or perhaps it was the same song he’d been playing all afternoon – it was dreadfully hard to tell.

“What are you talking about, my boy is doing brilliantly!” Pappa said, shouting to hear himself through all the cotton he’d shoved into his ears. “Just needs a little fine-tuning, is al!”

“His head needs fine-tuning, I don’t know about anything else!” Little My said. “For once the big lug decides to stick at something, and it’s torturing me with all this!”

“Oh, Little My, don’t be cruel, he is trying to learn,” Mamma said, digging through her handbag. “And I’m sure I have more cotton in here somewhere…”

Downstairs, Moomintroll hit another series of very fast, very high notes, and then a lot of notes at once, and then swore very loudly, starting the whole sequence again.

“Stuff your cotton!” Little My bellowed. “I’m going to knock some sense into him!”

“What?” both Pappa and Mamma shouted, having stuffed their cotton into their ears.

Little My groaned and zipped down the banister, hopping down to the living room, where Moomintroll was slamming his big clumsy paws down on the poor piano over and over, as though it was his worst enemy or something.

“Oi! Vladimir Horowitz!” she shouted. Moomintroll jumped and hit his elbow hard against the keys, making a low noise.

“Ow!” he said, turning around. “What is it? I’m busy.”

“I can hear that. The whole bloody valley can,” she said, folding her arms. “And it’s not a treat, believe me.”

“Why are you so horrible?” he said. “I’m only a beginner!”

“And you’ll stay a beginner carrying on like this,” she said, prodding him in the snout with an accusing finger. “Just ask Snufkin to teach you, if you’re so determined.”

As she expected, Moomintroll coloured immediately.

“I can’t do that,” he said.

“Why not?”

“He’s busy.”

“I watched him follow a butterfly for twenty minutes yesterday,” she said. “He’s the least busy person I know, and that’s saying something.”

“Besides. I don’t want to hear this until I’m…” Moomintroll said but then he trailed off and shook his head. Little My snorted.

“Thought this was for Snorkmaiden?” she said. “She’s _definitely_ the one who was rambling on about some handsome pianist the other day, after all.”

“Exactly!” Moomintroll said, not at all catching the look Little My gave him for that. “It’s just, y’know. I want Snufkin to hear it…before I show it to Snorkmaiden? For a second opinion.”

He didn’t even sound that convinced of it himself.

“Riiight,” Little My said, deciding it just wasn’t her job to debate something so stupid with him. Besides, she had plans with Snorkmaiden for the afternoon. “Well, I’m not sticking around here. Call me back when you can play something that doesn’t make everyone’s ears bleed.”

That said, she had an idea on how she might make that happen sooner rather than later.

****

Moomintroll was certain he was _almost_ getting the hang of this. At the very least, he’d worked out what end was high sounds and what end was low and what the pedals did (although he couldn’t quite manage to move his feet to them properly). It was rather simply, in that sense. The problem was figuring out how one could move one’s fingers fast enough – as well as have both paws doing different things. And he wasn’t quite sure what the black keys did, or if they were necessary at all.

“So, was that _Twinkle Twinkle Little Star_?” Mamma asked.

His ears flopped.

“It was _All Small Beasts_ …”

“That was my second guess,” Mamma said quickly. Mamma was a rotten liar, and the fact she needed to lie at all only made Moomintroll feel worse. Mamma leaned down and put an arm around him.

“Oh darling, you are getting better. Why, remember when I started painting? Nobody could tell the difference between my dahlias and my daffodils.”

“But I’m not _talented_ am I?” Moomintroll whined, suddenly feeling very sorry for himself. “I never got any good at the grass flute either, and everyone says my poetry’s dreadful. Everyone else is wonderful at so many things, and I’m not talented at even one thing.”

“Well,” Moominmamma said, kissing him on the head, “I believe someone as wonderful as you can be wonderful at anything. It’s just a matter of practice.”

He knew that was how it worked. Still, he couldn’t help but feel everyone else didn’t need to practice anywhere _near_ as much as him before they were good at something. Moomintroll would keep doing something and doing something and still be rubbish at it. Whether it was poetry or skiing or grass flute or any of the other hundred things he’d tried, he never seemed to get anywhere better than mediocre at it.

Being told to practice, Moomintroll thought, was all well and good – but only if one wasn’t already trying as hard as they could. If one was already working very hard indeed, being told to work harder only made one wonder if one was simply no good at it at all.

“Snufkin barely needs to practice before he’s good at something,” Moomintroll muttered.

“Oh, I’m sure he practices more than you know,” Mamma said, and gave him another squeeze. “Now, I’m going to pop to the village store for a few things. Why don’t you take the afternoon off and rest your poor paws?”

Moomintroll grunted. He didn’t want to be rude to Mamma, but he felt much too useless and sorry for himself to help it.

With a sigh, Mamma took herself off down the road, taking the long walk to the only village in Moominvalley. Moomintroll sat and prodded at the piano keys a bit more, making a little nonsense tune.

“Some use you’ve been,” he told the piano, folding his arms and leaning on it, not caring that it made a sound like a dying booble in response. “All you’ve done is make everyone feel sorry for me.”

He could just walk away from it, he supposed. It wasn’t as though he’d promised anyone anything to do with this piano. And his family would probably be glad to see him give it up. And nobody would be surprised he gave up on something else, he thought gloomily.

It would probably be a stupid little story for Snufkin to tell his grasshopper friend, if he went back to see him next winter.

Moomintroll sat upright at the thought.

“Right,” he said, putting his paws on the keys. “One more go!”

One more go, to his surprise, turned quickly into two, and then three, and then four. He had just finished the fifth go, when a little voice piped up at the window.

“Was that _All Small Beasts_?”

Moomintroll jumped, smacking his elbows hard against the piano. He turned to find Snufkin leaning through the window, arms folded.

“You could tell?” Moomintroll said.

“By the third attempt, yes,” he replied. “Little My said you wanted my help.”

“Oh, did she?” he replied. Snufkin nodded and slid into the room, wandering over to stand over Moomintroll.

“Yes, she said you’re learning without a teacher,” he said. “For that, you’re doing rather well.”

“Oh, really? I mean, you think I’m getting good?” he said, eyes wide.

“Oh, not at all! You’re still quite awful,” Snufkin said cheerfully. Moomintroll dropped his snout on the keys and covered his eyes with his paws, suddenly resisting the urge to cry. Snufkin looked alarmed, and put a paw gently on his back.

“I’m sorry, Moomintroll, I really didn’t mean it like that,” he said, sitting down on the stool next to him. “I just mean this is not an instrument one can easily get the hang of without someone to teach you. The fact you’ve managed this much alone is very impressive.”

Moomintroll lifted a paw.

“It really does show you’ve got some wonderful raw talent,” Snufkin said, so warmly that Moomintroll softened.

“Really?”

“Of course,” he said, but then his face turned stern, “but raw talent is no use at all without hard work.”

“Urgh,” Moomintroll said, “but you hate hard work.”

“I hate hard work for the sake of capital,” Snufkin corrected. “For the sake of art is another thing entirely.”

Moomintroll didn’t understand that in the least, but he did not feel like crying any more. He sat up, resting his paws on the keys. Snufkin looked at him carefully for a second.

“You are doing a couple of things wrong though,” he said, “that could easily be put right.”

“Oh?” Moomintroll asked. “Like what?”

“The way you’re sitting, for one. That’s very important,” he said, and straightened up his back, sitting more neatly than Moomintroll had ever seen him. “You’re slouching. Sit with your back straight, with your paws relaxed, fingers slightly bent on the keys, with finger one over the middle C.”

That was far too much information.

“Huh?”

“Err, you see, like this?” Snufkin said, nudging Moomintroll aside to rest his paws over the keys. He played a short little ditty, paws moving much more fluidly and smoothly than Moomintroll’s had.

“Oh, right, right, middle C, that’s…uh,” Moomintroll said, looking down at the keys. If there were names for them, they should really come labelled! How was anybody supposed to work it out otherwise?

Snufkin watched him for a few seconds and then leaned over, moving Moomintroll’s paw gently to a key, pressing their fingers down on it.

“There. That’s the C note. It’s always before the two black keys,” he said. “And the middle C is simply the C key closest to the middle. That’s here.”

“Right, right, right,” Moomintroll said quickly, trying to focus on anything aside from the fact he could feel Snufkin’s pulse through his finger. “So, there’s names for the different sounds?”

“And your fingers,” Snufkin said, taking his paw and pointing at each finger in turn. “That’s finger two, three, four, five, and then your thumb is finger one. Start by resting your thumb on middle C, and you’ll find it much easier to move to the keys you need.”

Moomintroll laughed, looking down at his paw in Snufkin’s.

“That’s a lot to remember,” he said.

“Learning something new always requires learning a lot of boring things,” Snufkin said. “It would be wonderful if we could get along without them, but I’m afraid few people can.”

“I bet you could,” Moomintroll blurted out, before he could help himself. Snufkin gave him a very odd look, and then dropped his paw as though it suddenly became very hot.

“Not at all,” he said, brow furrowed. “I needed to learn this just as much as anyone else.”

Moomintroll had the stomach-dropping feeling one got when missing a step on the stairs.

“Err, right,” he said. They fell quiet, Snufkin playing something softly. Even just his absent-minded playing was lovely. That, more than anything else, made Moomintroll make up his mind.

“So, could you teach me the boring things?” he said. “I mean, I need someone to, and nobody else really can, so…you know. If you’re not doing anything else.”

“I suppose,” he said, sounding terribly uncertain. “I can’t promise much though, I’m not really an expert myself.”

“You know better than I do,” Moomintroll replied quickly. “Now, what are the names of the other keys? And what are these little black ones for? I can’t work them out at all.”

****

Over the next few weeks, Snufkin popped by every other day to give advice. He refused to call it a “lesson”, looking a bit ill when someone else called it as much, but that’s what it was. The hot summer weather gave way to warm rain, pattering against the roofpanes of Moominhouse and misting the windows.

There wasn’t much in the way of an arranged time. Snufkin would just wander up to the window now and then, rap on the glass. Moomintroll, pretending he hadn’t been glancing over at the windows all day, would then open up and let him in, and the two would sit for an hour, Snufkin taking him over the basics – how to tuck his thumb over when moving his paws, what the black keys were for, when to use the pedals and how to read musical notes (although Snufkin hardly put much stock in such things himself). Moomintroll could hardly recall ever having so much of Snufkin’s undivided attention before, never mind Snufkin touching him so often.

After an hour, though, Snufkin would always begin to look restless, his gaze going to the window, to the wet grass and frothing river. Moomintroll would think, very long and very hard, about asking him to stay longer, but then something else would win out, and he would always say:

“Probably need to go catch dinner before it gets too dark, don’t you?”

And Snufkin would always say:

“Hm, you’re right. Best be off. Cheerio.”

And that would be that.

It was then a surprise when, before Moomintroll could say his usual line, Snufkin instead said:

“We could probably do with practising for a little longer.”

“Oh?” Moomintroll said, raising his eyebrows. “Why don’t we then?”

“It’s just a shame to be cooped up inside for so long, in such splendid weather,” Snufkin said, gazing out at the torrents of rain as though there was nothing more lovely.

If it was anybody else, Moomintroll would think it was an affectation, but Snufkin was entirely serious. He delighted in even the most miserable of weather and landscapes, provided they were completely natural. A flat plateau Moomintroll would see nothing interesting in, Snufkin would immediately spot the most fascinating little creatures, or point out the beautiful line between the sand and the blue sky. The strangest thing was that as soon as Snufkin pointed out the way such things could be beautiful, Moomintroll would begin to see it too.

“Don’t worry about it, Snuf, I can practice by myself,” he said, nudging him with his hip. Snufkin smiled at him.

“No hurry. Let’s see you do that last piece one more time, I think you almost had it,” he said, to Moomintroll’s great surprise. Moomintroll puffed up at the compliment, clearing his throat as he put his paws back on the keys.

Snufkin shook his head, lifting a paw to stop him.

“You’re still sitting much too close to the piano,” he said.

“But this is comfortable,” Moomintroll complained.

“You aren’t giving yourself enough room to move easily,” Snufkin retorted. “You’ll struggle less on high and low notes if you sit a bit further away.”

Grunting, Moomintroll shifted the stool back. Snufkin laughed.

“Goodness, how long do you think your arms _are_?”

“Well you said further back!”

“Not to the other side of the room, Moomintroll!”

“How far then?”

“Hm, well, if you can easily imagine a cat sitting in your lap, that’s about right,” Snufkin said.

“What? How am I meant to do that?”

“Oh, good grief, Moomintroll,” he said. “You know how big a cat is, surely?”

“Well yes, but there’s not one in front of me right now, is there?” Moomintroll protested. “I just can’t picture it properly.”

“Oh Protector-of-all-Small-Beasts!” he cried. “Just imagine me there then! That should give you an idea.”

Moomintroll choked on thin air, and Snufkin went completely silent, looking as though he’d just realised what he said.

“Er,” said a small voice behind them. They both turned to see Moominpappa standing in the doorway.

“I was supposed to tell you that dinner’s almost ready, if you boys want any, but…er, well,” he said, and cleared his throat. “Carry on.”

He went back upstairs, keeping his gaze carefully trained on the ceiling. The two of them looked at one another, until Snufkin put his paws over his mouth, holding back a snicker. Moomintroll’s shoulders shook, and soon the two of them were laughing helplessly. Snufkin so hard that he snorted, and Moomintroll laughed even harder, unused to such a graceless sound coming out of his friend.

“Oh dear,” Snufkin said, slowly managing to recover his senses. “Well, I suppose I should be off.”

“Are you sure you don’t want any dinner?” he asked, and then hastily added. “Or you could take some away?”

After a pause that seemed a touch longer than normal, Snufkin shook his head.

“No, I haven’t the time,” he said, standing and putting his hat back on. “Would rather like to move my campsite somewhere more sheltered for the night”.

“Of course,” Moomintroll said. “Tomorrow then?”

Snufkin shrugged, as non-committal as ever. Moomintroll followed him to the door, almost automatically, but then stopped himself. Instead, he just waved and went back into the living room, listening until he heard the front door shut.

He looked at the piano again.

“Cooped up inside, eh?”

****

“Why are we moving this again?” Sniff asked.

“I told you, the _acoustics_ ,” Moomintroll said, shoving against the piano (Sniff only leaned against the piano, only making it heavier. “It will sound much better out on the open air.”

“I’m not sure that’s right,” Sniff said. “Surely it’ll sound better with something to echo against? And without the wind and rain and all that?”

“Which of us is the great pianist?” Moomintroll said, raising his snout.

“Oh _definitely_ you, buddy,” Little My said, chewing on a carrot.

“Are you going to help, or just make clever comments?” he snapped.

“What do you want me to do?” she replied and gestured down to herself. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not really suited to manual labour.”

“Neither am I, really, I’m far more the brains of the operation,” Sniff said, leaning even more of his weight against the piano.

“Ask Snorkmaiden,” Little My suggested.

“I’m not doing that,” Moomintroll said.

“Well why not?” she asked.

“It – it wouldn’t be gentlemanly, that’s why,” he said. It was partially true – Snorkmaiden was by far the strongest out of all of them, but she hated to be reminded of it. She said it wasn’t lady-like, that a maiden shouldn’t be seen carting things about like a farmhand.

“Oh please, you two need to get over this lady and gentleman rubbish,” Little My said, and tossed the end of her carrot at his head. "I'm sick of arguing with her about it."

“Oh, just get the door to the veranda!” Moomintroll snapped.

“I don’t know,” Little My said, even as she walked over to the door and opened it. “Wouldn’t be terribly lady-like of me, to get the door for a chap, would it?”

With much grumbling and grunting (and a great deal of shouting at Sniff), they finally managed to wheel the piano onto the veranda. It was a lucky thing that Too-Ticky installed wheels onto the thing, otherwise it would have never gotten moved.

The floorboards of the veranda creaked under its weight. Moomintroll cleared a few freshly fallen autumn leaves out of the way, clearing the floor space for the stool.

“Are we sure it’ll be alright out here?” Sniff asked, as Moomintroll carried the stool out and set it in front of the piano.

“Of course it will,” he soothed, and glanced up. It was a lovely crisp day, but he supposed rain could be a problem. “I’ll just put a little bit of tarp out, like over a shop window. That should stop rain being a problem.”

“I don’t know, this seems like a hare-brained scheme to me,” Little My said, hands on her hips.

“There’s no need to fuss,” he said, and then waved them away. “Now be off! I need to practice before Snufkin gets here this afternoon.”

“Be off?” Little My repeated, outraged.

“What are you shooing us for?” Sniff asked. “You’re the one who called _me_ over!”

“Yes, yes, and I’m very grateful, but now I _must_ be left alone,” he insisted with a flourish. “An _artiste_ needs space.”

“Oh for – Sniff, let’s get out of here and leave this windbag to it,” Little My said.

Moomintroll sniffed as they left. What was there to blow up in his face, after all. He sat down to practice the tune he and Snufkin had been creating together (well, it was mostly Snufkin, Moomintroll really wasn’t good enough to compose), until he heard the familiar sound of Snufkin’s mouth-organ coming up the path.

He paused, rushing to the other side of the veranda. Snufkin didn’t notice him, just continued wandering in his rambling way up to the front door. Moomintroll watched him, amused as he knocked, and then peeked in the window, clearly puzzled.

After a few minutes of watching him wander back and forth from the front door to the window, Moomintroll decided to have mercy.

“Snufkin!” he cried, leaning over the veranda to wave to him. “Over here.”

Snufkin’s expression brightened as he spotted Moomintroll on the veranda, wandering over to meet him.

“Hullo, what’s this about?” he asked, hopping up onto the railing. Moomintroll offered his paws to help him climb down, trying not to look too pleased with himself.

“I just got to thinking and you know, you were so right, it really was a shame to be cooped up inside every time we practiced,” he said. “So I brought it out here! What do you think?”

“Well, I think it’s splendid,” Snufkin said, but then glanced down at the veranda flooring. “Are we sure it will hold the extra weight though? Moominpappa built this a long time ago, didn’t he?”

“Of course it will! Moomin houses are second to none!” he said. “I’m sure it’s a thousand times more stable that old shack your grasshopper friend lived in.”

“Well, he was quite poor,” Snufkin explained, taking his paws from Moomintroll’s to remove his rucksack. “Those in the city don’t have access to the resources you have in the valley. One should try to be mindful of such things.”

“Oh, hm, I suppose,” Moomintroll muttered, chest turning cold. Shaking that off, he sat down on the stool and shuffled aside, patting Snufkin’s usual spot. Snufkin looked at it, just for a moment, and then sat on the veranda railing beside him.

“I think you can play without me hovering over you now,” he said, looking away.

“Oh,” Moomintroll said, again having that feeling of missing a step. “Oh. Um. Great!”

“I was thinking, perhaps I could play along on my mouth-organ?” Snufkin said, tapping his mouth-organ against his paws. “It might be good to practice playing alongside someone.”

“The piece we were working on?” Moomintroll asked, fiddling with his tail. “I think I might find it a bit hard to keep up with you, Snuf.”

“I’m sure you won’t,” he replied. “You really are very good, you know.”

“Oh, haha, well…y’know,” he said, looking at his claws with faux nonchalance. “I have been practicing lately.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure Snorkmaiden will be very pleased.”

“Huh?” Moomintroll said, looking up.

“Snorkmaiden,” Snufkin repeated, polishing his mouth-organ on his sleeve. “She’ll be very pleased with the fine tune you’ve written for her.”

“Oh. Oh, uh, of course,” he said, gut twisting. “Well, she’s –“

“Shall we play?” Snufkin interrupted.

Moomintroll nodded and rested his fingers on the keys. Snufkin counted them in, but try as they might, they could not get quite in time with one another.

Despite the piano being placed outside, Snufkin left before the hour was even up.

****

Snorkmaiden, of course, yes, he was doing all this for Snorkmaiden! She was his special friend, after all. It was only appropriate.

So naturally, she needed to be invited over to hear it. Which was totally a thing he’d been intending to do from the very beginning.

He had also totally not completely forgotten about her for weeks.

“So,” she said, sitting at the veranda table with her arms folded. “Where’ve you been hiding away for the past few weeks?”

Moomintroll’s back suddenly became very slick with sweat.

“Well, my – my sweet,” he said, voice cracking on the pet name. “I’ve been composing a song in your honour!”

He rather expected Snorkmaiden to coo and get all giddy at that. Or at the very least perk up. But she just kept looking at him, arms folded and gaze sceptical. Lately, she hadn’t been playing along with this game quite as much.

“Is that so?” she said.

“Yes, yes, of course! Who else!”

“Who else, hm?” she repeated quietly. “I wonder…”

Oh dear. It felt very hot for ten past autumn.

“Yes, err, well…it’s an instrumental piece and – err, takes inspiration from…”

Snorkmaiden stared at him, entirely unimpressed. Moomintroll flicked his ears and cleared his throat.

“Well!” he said, and took a seat at the piano, as grandly as he could. “I hope you enjoy it.”

Resting his fingers on the keys (back straight, elbows relaxed, just far enough from the keys that – err, anyway), he started to play. It really was harder without Snufkin settled next to him, occasionally guiding his paws. Even just his presence, warm against Moomintroll’s hip, felt like it helped somehow or another.

“Moomintroll, stop,” Snorkmaiden said.

“I know!” Moomintroll blurted out, flustered. “I’m still not very good, okay, I know! Just, let me start that one again –“

“No, no, Moomintroll, _stop_ ,” she said, raising her paws with a wince. “I know what’s going on here. You didn’t write that. Snufkin did.”

Moomintroll flushed pink.

“We did it together,” he said quietly.

“I know,” she said with a sigh. She sounded so exasperated that his embarrassment flared abruptly into anger. He leapt to his feet and wheeled around to face her.

“Well, I’m _very_ sorry I’m not _extraordinarily talented_ ,” he said, folding his arms. “I know you’d much prefer some fine fellow who is wonderfully skilled at music –“

“Moomintroll! What by the booble’s tail are you talking about!” Snorkmaiden said. “I’ve barely seen you for weeks, and I finally get to and you act all weird.”

“I was learning to play!” Moomintroll whined, stomping his foot. “You’re the one who was rambling on about some handsome pianist!”

She stared at him and sighed, burying her face in her paws. A low cackling started from under the table.

“I told you,” Little My said, her little orange ponytail popping up from below.

“Oh, you were right,” Snorkmaiden said. “Just don’t get an even bigger head over it.”

Smirking, Little My hopped onto Snorkmaiden’s lap. Snorkmaiden curled her paw around the smaller girl’s waist. The two of them had been doing a lot of things like that lately, Moomintroll thought.

“What were you right about?” Moomintroll said.

“I knew the second Snufkin told that story you’d get all jealous about it,” Little My said.

“I did try to hint to him about it when we went fishing yesterday,” Snorkmaiden said, playing with My’s ponytail.

“The two of you spend time together without me?” Moomintroll said stupidly, mouth going very dry at the thought.

“We do have lives outside of you, Moomintroll,” Snorkmaiden said dryly.

“I know that!” he spluttered, going redder still. “Believe me, I do.”

“Not very happy about it though, are you?” Little My said.

“You do get jealous easily,” Snorkmaiden said. “It’s not fair, you know?”

“It’s not like I enjoy it! I hate feeling like this, it’s so stupid!” he said and stomped his foot down hard. The floorboards creaked and wobbled beneath him, and he stumbled, catching himself against the veranda railing.

He straightened up and swallowed.

“Don’t you worry – I mean…Snufkin probably meets much more exciting people on his adventures,” he said quietly, barely daring to voice it. “What if he starts wanting to go see them every spring, instead of m – instead of us?”

“Well, he’s going to be more likely to do that if you’re acting like a possessive ninny!” Little My said, slamming her paws on the table.

Moomintroll’s lip wobbled. Snorkmaiden sighed and stood, popping Little My on her shoulder. She crossed over to the piano and put a paw on his shoulder.

“Oh, my Moomintroll. You know Snufkin and I both love you,” she said. “You’re our best friend, but it’s not fair. Giving me presents meant for Snufkin. Or getting jealous about something that isn’t really to do with you.”

“It feels like it is,” Moomintroll muttered, rubbing his eyes. Little My leaned over to swat him on the nose.

“Well, it’s not!” she said. “Not unless you two agree it is, anyway.”

“Huh?”

“One thing at a time, My,” Snorkmaiden muttered to her. She relented and sat back with her arms folded, muttering something to herself that Moomintroll didn’t catch.

“Listen, you old silly, why don’t you just talk to Snufkin about this,” Snorkmaiden said, nuzzling her snout against Moomintroll’s cheek.

“You say that like it’ll be easy,” he said, sitting down at the piano and putting his snout on his paws.

“Didn’t say that,” she replied. “I just think you need to do it. We could all do with getting better at this listening and talking to each other thing, honestly.”

Little My snorted.

“No kidding.”

“And _you’re_ not exempt,” Snorkmaiden said, giving Little My a stern prod in the stomach. “Anyway, I’m off. I’m on dinner duty at home tonight.”

“Right,” Moomintroll replied, pressing a few keys on the piano, trying to think.

“Yeah, I’ll see you later, bonehead!” Little My said, waving at him from Snorkmaiden’s shoulder.

“Right, bye,” he grunted, and then looked up. “Wait, why are you heading home with _her!_?”

****

Snufkin didn’t turn up for their usual play the next day. Or the day after that. In fact, a week passed without him, his usual camping spot by the river left as a flat patch of grass. The trees shed more and more of their leaves, and the autumn rain began to fall, cold and heavy. The tarps over the veranda only did so much to prevent it, with the wind starting to whip and howl, and the varnished wood of the piano began to darken.

He began to wonder if Snufkin had left early – if he was as bad as Snorkmaiden and Little My seemed to think, and his jealousy had driven him away.

“Probably went to see that stupid musician friend of his,” he muttered darkly to himself, crossing the bridge with his umbrella resting against his shoulder. “He’s probably _mature_ and _sensible_ and _never gets carried away_ …”

That was probably the type of friend, special or not, that Snufkin deserved.

He stopped by the mailbox, staring at it. Leaning up on his toes, he tucked his paw inside, feeling about for the familiar square of paper Snufkin left behind. Nothing.

Snufkin wouldn’t leave without writing a goodbye letter. Would he?

Trudging back up towards the house, Moomintroll began to wonder if Mamma would make him some hot cocoa, when he heard something through the rain, a sad-but-jolly tune.

“Snufkin?” he said, perking up. Abandoning the umbrella, he rushed up the hill and towards the veranda. Snufkin was at the piano, playing a tune Moomintroll had never heard before. It was very pretty, but somehow felt a little fussier than Snufkin’s usual music.

He watched for a moment, not quite able to help himself, before he started to feel like he was doing something untoward, and then cleared his throat. Snufkin jumped, slamming his paws down on the keys with a low boom.

“Moomintroll!” he said, startled, and then coughed. “Apologies, I thought you were out.”

“Have…have you been sneaking in to play when we’re not in?” Moomintroll asked.

Snufkin looked suitably sheepish.

“Only since you moved the piano outside.”

“You could have just asked.”

“Well, I’d rather play without an audience,” Snufkin grumbled.

“You have asked for that as well,” Moomintroll said, feeling very warm despite the cold rain.

Sometimes he got very much caught up in the idea of Snufkin, he would forget he was the kind of person too shy to ask for a turn on the piano but brazen enough to just sneak in and use it anyway.

He clambered over the veranda railing and came to sit next to him, the floorboards creaking beneath them. Snufkin sniffed, turning to look at him.

“You’re soaking,” Snufkin pointed out.

“It is raining,” he said, and then looked up at the veranda. “And this isn’t that sheltered.”

“I know, it’s making the piano sound a little…” Snufkin said and pressed a few keys. Moomintroll immediately caught his meaning. It sounded off. He supposed it had been outside and uncovered for a long while.

“Oh dear, I think we might have ruined Too-Ticky’s hard work,” Moomintroll muttered.

“Nonsense, we will dry it off and it will be as good as it ever was,” Snufkin said, with a wave of his paw.

“Mm, maybe,” he replied, nowhere near as confident. They fell silent, both absent-mindedly fiddling on the keys.

“So how did it go?” Snufkin asked suddenly.

“Hm?”

“With Snorkmaiden?”

“Oh,” Moomintroll said faintly. “I’m not sure she’s much interested in the piano, honestly.”

“She’s not?” he asked.

“No,” Moomintroll replied firmly. “This is – this is more our thing, y’know?”

Snufkin’s expression was inscrutable. Moomintroll decided he had no choice but to say something incredibly stupid.

“Well, y’know, it might be your thing with someone else already.”

“What?” Snufkin asked, looking up with an expression of great surprise.

“Your grasshopper friend,” Moomintroll said, playing a nonsense tune with one paw. “He sounded special.”

Snufkin didn’t reply, and just played that pretty, fussy tune from before.

“I suppose,” Snufkin said, non-committal. “Everyone is, aren’t they?”

“Well, no, but –“ Moomintroll said, and then grunted, clearing his throat. “Special to you, I mean.”

“He was a good friend,” he replied blandly. “But I’m afraid we didn’t part on as nice terms as I’d have hoped.”

“Oh?” he said, unable to hide the pleasure from his voice.

“I was only there for a few weeks you understand, but he started – well, he started to very much act like I would always be there,” Snufkin said. “There began to be much talk of ‘our house’, and he began to shop for a new bed and to clean out his spare room. All of this without consulting me at all.”

The guilty squirm in Moomintroll’s gut was back.

“I suppose he just liked you a great deal,” he said. To his surprise, Snufkin snorted.

“Really now!” he said. “We’d only known each other a few weeks! No two creatures can really know each other so well after such a short time. All he knew about me was his own idea of me. And he got very attached to it. The problem with that is I would always eventually disappoint that ideal. And then he would feel horribly betrayed. It's not fair on anyone.”

Snufkin stopped playing, paws resting stiffly on the keys.

“It came to quite a head when I needed a break, so I took a risk and went to pitch my tent in a local park for the night,” he said, and sighed. “Before I could even put my head down, there was a buzzing outside of my tent, and there he was. All quite in a tizzy, antennae wiggling, wings buzzing, asking me if I knew what I was doing, telling me that I needed to come ‘home’ this instant.”

“How dare he!” Moomintroll exclaimed. The grasshopper really didn’t know Snufkin in the least if that was how he treated him!

Snufkin smiled at him.

“Well, he’s hardly the first one to act like that,” he said, giving him a little nudge.

Moomintroll flushed.

“I grew out of it! Or…I’m trying to, I promise,” he said, looking up at him. “Even if I _feel_ sad when you’re gone, I wouldn’t ever act on it like that.”

“I know. And I’m glad for it,” Snufkin replied, fingers relaxing on the keys. He began to play again. “Well, needless to say, I didn’t go back to that shack. I decided I’d done as much for the protest as I could. It was time to move on.”

“I’m sorry it went so sour, Snuf,” he said, and was surprised to find he meant it.

“Ah, well, it was no great loss, really,” Snufkin replied, shrugging, giving him a look. “I have people special to me already. I don’t need more.”

Moomintroll grinned to himself, looking down at their paws resting together on the keys. His heart thrummed in his chest, and he felt as though the world was titling beneath him.

“Uh, Snuf –“

Something creaked.

Moomintroll suddenly realised the floor _really was_ tilting beneath them.

“Snufkin!” he shouted, leaping to his feet. The wood splintered, collapsing beneath them. Moomintroll only managed to seize Snufkin under the arms as the floor gave way. With a groan, the piano began to roll away, crashing through the railing.

They both looked at one another. Moomintroll dropped him and they both set off at a run. The piano rattled downhill, picking up speed. The grass beneath was muddy and slick with the rain and leaves, and soon Moomintroll tumbled over, taking Snufkin down with him.

Sore, they sat up, just in time to see the piano splash into the river. They sat next too each other, too stunned to react.

“Oh dear,” Snufkin said. “There should have really been brakes installed on that.”

“Uh, there were,” Moomintroll said. “I forgot to use them.”

The piano bobbed and disappeared down the river, shrinking to a little brown speck on the horizon.

“I suppose it’s heading to the sea,” Snufkin said, watching it go with an odd, almost melancholy expression. Moomintroll leaned over to grab Snufkin’s hat for him.

“I’m sorry, Snuf,” he said, passing it back. “About the piano and about…well, I was a bit jealous.”

“Jealous?” Snufkin said, accepting his hat.

“Of your grasshopper friend.”

“That’s what this has all been about?” he replied, sounding so bewildered that Moomintroll felt completely silly.

“Well, yes, and no!” he spluttered, “It just made me feel a bit insecure, that’s all. I’m not really that good at anything and I over-react to things. And I know I idolise you and you hate that, and I am trying to grow up but…well. I’m not doing it that quickly.”

“Why should you have to?” Snufkin said, eyebrows raised. “It’s a terribly sad thing, growing up too quickly.”

“But wouldn’t you prefer a more exciting, grown-up friend?”

Snufkin laughed.

“Moomintroll, I know precious few people I would chase a runaway piano with,” he said. “I’d say that’s very exciting.”

He paused, chewing his lower lip for a second, as though deep in thought.

“Besides,” he said, very carefully, clutching his hat in his paws, “you’re not the only one who gets jealous.”

“Huh?”

Snufkin shook his head, half-shielding his face with his hat.

“Snorkmaiden rather hinted you were learning the piano for her,” he said.

“ _That_ ’s why you vanished for a week?” he said.

“I’ll admit, I behaved rather childishly,” Snufkin said. “Even if this was for Snorkmaiden's sake, I shouldn’t go into such a sulk about it.”

Moomintroll laughed, unable to help himself. He was gratified to see Snufkin smile back at him.

“You're worse than I am!” he said.

“Yes, well, I suppose we both still have growing up to do,” Snufkin said. “It is a pity about the piano, though. You really were getting very good.”

“We can always find a new one. Or get it back!” he replied, and then perked up. “I bet if the weather clears tomorrow, we could sail out and find it.”

“Well, that sounds like an exciting adventure. Shall we –“

“Boys!”

They twisted around, seeing Mamma approaching, holding one umbrella over her and a spare under her arm.

“What are you two sitting out in the rain for?” she said. “You’ll catch your deaths of cold.”

“Mamma, we’re fine!” Moomintroll said, greatly embarrassed

“You do smell of wet dog,” Snufkin informed him, accepting the umbrella and getting to his feet.

“Well you smell like an old fisherman!” he said, and then smirked. “Even more than usual, I mean.”

“You are a dreadfully rude Moomintroll, and I should leave you out here to freeze to death,” he said, and opened the umbrella. He offered Moomintroll a paw. “But I’m feeling rather generous. Shall we head home?”

Moomintroll wasn’t sure if Snufkin noticed what he just said. Nor did he think either of them were ready to talk about it. But he felt very sure they would be, eventually.

Smiling, Moomintroll took his paw. Paws clasped together, they walked home, whistling all the way.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Me:** I'm going to heavily imply Snufkin has an ex-bf in this fic.  
>  **Everyone:** Ok.  
>  **Me:** It will be one of those huge grasshoppers from Comet.  
>  **Everyone:** Literally why are you like this.
> 
> Anyway, happy holidays! Whatever you're doing and whoever it's with, I hope you're safe and happy and enjoy it as much as you can. <3


End file.
